


Pale Sugar

by Esca



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Makara Sandwich, PWP, Pale to Red, Quadrant Confusion, Smut, Threesome, Troll Biology, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:10:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esca/pseuds/Esca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moirallegiance is the most indiscriminately dangerous quadrant of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pale Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of GamKar feels, okay? Sobsobsob...

Moirallegiance was the most indiscriminately dangerous quadrant of all.

Nobody could tell Karkat differently--he would outright refuse to listen.

These pale feelings he had for Gamzee, the lust to feel those long, spindly arms holding him, whispering things in his ear sweet as sugar, it blinded him. Made him oblivious to everything else around him but his want to see him again.

When he'd came across Gamzee's ancestor, so desperate was he for his moirail's touch that he didn't register the little things that set the two of them apart--height, clothing, hair, no, he threw his arms around the taller Makara from behind and went into a tirade of depreciative dialogue slandered with insults as he buried his face in the other's spine and sighed, the ache in his heart lessening.

 _He loved Gamzee._ He loved Gamzee so much that sometimes it was hard to keep the lines of pale and flush from intertwining. He wanted him in his arms so badly that when he finally opened his eyes and realized that this was not his moirail, his love, he was content enough to pretend, to fool himself, _to lie._

He was grateful, because the tall, lithe Capricorn seemed to understand his need. He turned around in Karkat's arms and leaned down, cupping his chin in his brittle, bony hands and pressed his stitched lips to his firmly.

They didn't kiss the same. Gamzee was savage, wild, all desire and repressed sexuality, and his ancestor was ginger, teasing, deliciously purposeful and drawn-out. It by no means felt wrong but it didn't exactly feel _right,_ either. Karkat closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander, to fantasize that _this_ would be how his moirail would kiss him were they flushed for each other.

He lets out a sharp cry when his hair is grabbed painfully--his eyes shoot open and the look of devotion on the other Makara's face is answer enough to just exactly who is clutching his short choppy locks so hard it hurts. Karkat's bloodpusher is throbbing--he lets out a soft gasp as he's wrenched away and his moirail looks him in the eye, irises full of rage.

_"Gamzee..."_

"Shut the _motherfuck_ up."

He's devouring his lips, frantic and lustful and Karkat hates that it took him a year of silence to realize _this is everything he's ever wanted._ He's kissing him back just as needily, letting out a noise when he feels another pair of lips on his throat.

Gamzee pulls back, and the growl that emits from him is predatory, possessive. _"Kurloz..."_ he hisses in warning.

So that's his name. Karkat watches as the two engage in a stare-off of sorts. It seems like forever but in reality they've really only been looking at each other for about a minute. Finally, Gamzee nods. An understanding reached, perhaps? Karkat can only assume so, because his palemate is ravaging his mouth again, and he's only too happy to reciprocate, to have him back in his arms. Kurloz is kissing his neck again, gloved hands trailing under his shirt, and the brief brush of his fabric-covered fingertips against the small areas of skin where vestigial grub legs used to be sends shivers up his spinal column.

Karkat doesn't put up any sort of resistance when Kurloz removes his long-sleeved tee, forcing Gamzee to pause just for the briefest of moments in their shared lip-lock so he can pull the article of clothing over Karkat's head. He has that predatory look again, like he likes what he's seeing, and the faintest bit of color wells up in the mutant-blood's cheeks.

Kurloz is planting little kisses along his shoulders, fingers deftly working to divest him of his pants. Karkat lets out a noise and puts his hands on top of the other Capricorn's, looking at him first then accusingly at Gamzee.

 _"I got this, best friend. I got you..."_ Gamzee holds his index and middle finger splayed open, and Karkat makes a choked sound and completes the unfinished diamond. Gamzee leans in and kisses him deeply, and it's happened, Karkat knows. That sacred little line has been crossed. _Blurred._ Terezi be damned, he's flushed for his moirail, and if Gamzee wants him, he can have him--this might not ever happen again, and it _hurts_ to think that. This time, he doesn't stop Kurloz when he unzips and unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, Gamzee assisting to divest him of them completely.

It's unfair, his state of undress compared to theirs. As if reading his mind, Gamzee takes off his t-shirt and nips at Karkat's collarbones, the sharp sting of his fangs drawing blood making the smaller troll moan softly. The sound escalates in pitch when Kurloz begins teasing his nook with his fingers, the stimulation making his body undulate in the most delicious ways. Karkat curls a hand around one of Kurloz's long, elegantly curved horns and utters a sharp cry when the older troll plunges a finger in his nook, bulge curling around his palm and dripping with candy-red genetic fluid as Kurloz thrusts his digit in and out.

Gamzee smirks darkly and leans in to whisper in Karkat's ear something that would have made a lesser troll lose it.

_"I'm gonna motherfucking eat you out."_

Karkat laments the loss of Kurloz's finger filling him, but groans when his nook is spread open widely for Gamzee to visually feast on with his hungry gaze. His perfect, long tongue licks his lips teasingly, and fuck, the Cancer just wants him to get on with it. He pushes his flush-crush's head down, mindful of his horns, and gasps as Gamzee sucks and licks and fucks his nook with his tongue, his thighs trembling and toes curling as he repeats his name like a mantra.

He's hushed by Kurloz, and kissed sweetly. Karkat can feel his bulge pressing against his backside, and he reaches for the mute troll's odd purple shorts and skeleton-print leggings, pulling them down over his thighs and curling a hand around him and stroking firmly.

When Gamzee pulled back from devouring Karkat's nook, he had sticky red genetic material on his lips and chin. Just tasting him wasn't enough. He needed to be inside him. Fishing his bulge out of his pants, he positioned himself, and with a harsh jerk of his hips, he was inside of his moirail. His beloved. The pained hiss the smaller troll made as he was penetrated tugged at the strings of his bloodpusher, plucked them, _made them ache._

His ancestor is giving him a questioning look--now he's using his hands to mimic some pretty lewd gestures. Is he asking for permission? Karkat is Gamzee's moirail, but he doesn't own him, as much as the indigo-blood selfishly fantasizes about it. Gamzee shrugs, and Kurloz interprets it as consent.

Gathering him into his lap, Gamzee watches transfixed as Kurloz inserts himself slowly, gently in Karkat's waste chute, the complete antithesis to him. His palemate is gasping, hurting, stretched wide and so wonderfully tight, and only a thin wall of skin is separating his bulge from the other Capricorn’s. It is Kurloz who makes the first experimental thrust, Gamzee following suit and gritting his teeth at the sheer amount of pressure.

It doesn't take long for Karkat to be rendered to a writhing, cursing mess, slim hips undulating, moving in time with the dual bulges violating his orifices. Gamzee is whispering things in his aural spongeclots that are so far from pale that his cheeks are on fire, betraying his blood with a blush so fine and beautiful high on his cheekbones. He opens his mouth to say something, only for it to come out as a sharp gasp, keening as fangs dig into the supple flesh of his throat, tearing, eviscerating, leaving an imprint so deep it will no doubt scar no matter how much of that detestably greasy wound seal he slathers onto it.

Right now, Karkat could care less. Gamzee could savage him, tear out his throat completely in this moment as long as he continues to murmur that deliciously borderline flushed diatribe that is making him completely and utterly aroused beyond belief and desperate for every hard thrust of his bulge into his sopping wet nook, genetic fluids warm and slick as they drip down his thighs.

The sound of threads ripping through flesh, stitches being broken is audible, and Karkat looks over his shoulder, jaw slackening. His shock falters into an outright scream as Kurloz bites down on his shoulder, little droplets of indigo-colored blood mingling with mutant cherry red as those highblood fangs meant for killing sink into him deeply--if he thought the sensation of Gamzee biting him was painful, this is _excruciating,_ and yet he’s still teeming for the both of them, begging for them to take him harder, faster.

“Motherfuckin’ mess...” Gamzee murmurs lowly, lust permeating his speech as he leans in and kisses his ancestor roughly, sucking the blood from his lips indulgently. He grins when Karkat has the audacity to look miffed. “Don’t be jealous none. Got plenty of pink sugar kisses for you too.”

The tart tang of aristocratic blood is prevalent, heady on his lips and tongue, and Karkat can also taste the slight sour curd of his own metallic cherry flavor mixed in somewhere. It’s not as unpleasant as what he anticipated it to be.

_Pink sugar._

Half the time he doesn’t understand the words that Gamzee utters. But this time, he gets it. They’ve always been pale, pale like sugar. Colorless, as proper moirails should be. But with every kiss, every touch, they get redder, and redder. It’s a beautiful thought, and it makes Karkat’s toes curl as his body shudders. He doesn’t know how much more onslaught he can take--with Kurloz spreading his shame globes open wide and sinking in and out of him methodically all while planting little soft kisses down his spine, and his palemate near jackhammering into him and obviously enjoying the mess he’s making of their copulating genetic fluids on their bodies if that toothy little smirk is anything to go by, all he can do is grasp and feel and touch and cry out loudly to their nameless mirthful messiahs, their angels of double death.

Cry out he does.

So overwhelmed is he by the tour-de-force the two Capricorns are while fucking him that he doesn’t even have a single cell of gray matter to spare for thought of a pail. Red-tinted genetic fluid gushes from the tip of his bulge in a torrent, staining Gamzee’s pants indiscriminately while he is filled to the brim with indigo in both orifices, warm and sticky and wet. As expected by this point, Kurloz pulls out of him gently, gloved hand gingerly petting his hair as he fixes his clothes. He bows politely, smiling with those mutilated lips, and he disappears, leaving Karkat and Gamzee all alone.

The mutant blood is exhausted--keeping his eyes open is taking every ounce of effort, but he has to know. He opens his mouth, but before he can utter nary a word, Gamzee has already taken the liberty of holding up his hand in not half of a diamond this time, but a heart.

“But only if you’re wantin’ it too.”

“...YOU _STUPID JUGGALO FUCK._ I JUST LET YOU TAKE A _BITE_ OUT OF ME AND _GANGBANG_ ME WITH YOUR ANCESTOR. DO YOU THINK FOR A SECOND I WOULD EVEN _CONSIDER_ DOING SUCH THINGS WITH YOU IF I WASN’T FLUSHED OUT OF MY FUCKING THINKPAN FOR YOU?! COME _ON._ ” 

Karkat scowls at him, but tiredly finishes the missing half of the heart. “FIRST THING YOU CAN DO AS MY FUCKING MATESPRIT IS FIND ME A DAMNED RESPITEBLOCK. I SMELL LIKE CLOWN.”

“Whatever you say, my most excellent flushed bro.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :o)


End file.
